My mom always had THE CALENDAR when we were growing up. Between three kids, dance classes, baseball practice, soccer games, piano lessons, school functions and anything else thrown into the mix, she needed it to keep her sanity. Actually, I'm still not sure it helped with that, but at least we knew who went where and when (you know, as long as she looked on the calendar and reminded us four or five times).
I never gave the calendar much thought. As I said, we barely paid attention to it, even then - it was just a landscape picture with a bunch of filled-in squares that met us at the refrigerator before we opened the door to scrounge for snacks before dinner.
Now, though, between the husband's wonky work schedule, Monsoon's baseball practice (yes, my baby started his first season this week) and new preschool hours, Dorothy's doctor appointments and visits with her kids, my every-other-week as worship teacher for Monsoon's class at church, and whatever else we throw on top....?
I've moved our calendar to the front of the fridge, and the once-blank squares just don't seem nearly big enough to accommodate all of our plans. It happened so suddenly, yet I'm quite certain this is simply the tip of the ice burg.
When You Desperately Need a Little Soul Care, This
4 months ago